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Chapter 11
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Governor Alse followed Marc down the hall toward the Medic Center without knowing where he was really being taken, or at least, he wasn’t saying so. Marc could feel the man’s nervousness, and when he stopped at the door to the dungeons, that turned to fear.
“You want to show me something in the dungeons, my Lord? I find that highly irregular.”
“Someone, Governor. I thought you’d be interested in seeing who we found was responsible for the attack on Prince Dynan.” With a nod to the door guard, who was really one of the Special Forces soldiers from the Exile Base, Lieutenant Mikk Jorg, Marc entered and Alse followed him, hesitant and uncertain what he was up to.
Down a brief flight of stairs, Arlon’s cell was off a corridor to the right of the entrance, separated from the other detention cells by a wall of stone. The duty guard met them at the door, a heavy wooden affair banded by thick metal. Marc suppressed a shudder as he walked through, thankful the guard had the sense to leave the door open behind them. Marc would have insisted on it, had he not, but he didn’t want to show how uncomfortable he was at being down here with Alse walking so closely beside him. He was thankful as well that the door was closed to the cells below this level, cutting off the lingering smells. Still, even on this clean and brightly lit level, the repugnant odor was mildly noticeable. He blinked back memory and saw that a duct filtered in fresh air along the hall of isolation cells. As requested, one of the six doors stood open. Arlon resided in the last on the left.
Marc opened the grill plate and stood back, allowing Alse to see inside the cell, watching him carefully. To his credit, the Governor hardly blinked, but turned to Marc too quickly. “Who is he?”
“You know exactly who he is, Governor.” He pulled out a transcribed message Allie had given him from Arlon’s comterm.
Alse’s gaze hardened. “I think you’re making a serious error in judgment should you continue to make unfounded accusations.”
Arlon moved from the bunk he’d been lounging on to peer through the grate. Marc held up the transcript so that Alse could read it. His face reddened with anger, his eyes flicking to Marc, then to Arlon.
“You idiot.”
“No, Governor, it was your own stupidity in trusting one of Maralt Adaeryn’s men.” Marc pointed him to the open cell at the far end of the hall from Arlon’s.
“The people of Cobalt will not tolerate your abuses. My colleagues won’t tolerate it. You’ll be destroyed.”
“Save it for judgment day.” Marc nodded to the guard, and walked by Alse, waiting while the Governor was locked in, raging all the while, but offering little in the way of physical resistance.
The guard turned to him after closing and locking the cell door. “I have your instructions, my Lord. I’ll see that they’re followed to the letter.”
Marc nodded, smiling as the main door was closed, echoing as the lock was drawn, and effectively cutting off the Governor’s ranting threats.
Marc found the dinner he’d ordered waiting for him when he returned to his office, and sat to eat in solitude while he read over what he hoped to be able to say at the Governor’s meeting tomorrow. Much would depend on what Commander Morlin found, but Marc had a basic idea of the things he had to cover.
Morlin’s teams were just reaching their destinations, setting up for their attack on the homes of seven traitorous Governors. It would be hours yet before he heard anything. He knew he wouldn’t likely be able to sleep at all until he had the full report, even when he knew he should.
Marc stood and paced, glancing periodically at the fire, wishing there were some other way to provide heat to the room. The blaze was dying down. Unless Marc called for one, the servants wouldn’t be back to tend it. It seemed too pretentious to call for help to put a log on the fire, except that he didn’t think he could do it himself.
Memories of Maralt torturing him – the searing heat, his skin blistering – clouded his mind. Marc turned from the hearth and moved to the window instead. He couldn’t see the temple tower. From here, the view was cut by a convenient stand of trees.
Rianamar’s lights twinkled beneath. His mind was taken back to the battle in the town square and the mad rush to get there. Marc wondered how many more times Dain could come so close to dying and still be able to function. The man’s endurance was extraordinary. Even after two years imprisonment, it was hard to say if he was any slower than he used to be. It was difficult to imagine what he’d be like in top form.
Marc turned from the window, and picked up a slice of apple on his way to pace in front of the fire again, chewing as he moved back and forth. He sat after a moment of that, picked up the comboard and started reading another report from Trevan on fleet status that wasn’t any better than the first.
He stood, glancing over the food that remained on the plate. He thought he would likely hear from Geneal about how little he was eating. Apparently, she was keeping track. Meg Wrinn would tisk at him the next morning when she delivered breakfast, and Dain would probably have some comment to make as well. Marc couldn’t help it that he didn’t have an appetite.
He resumed his pacing, frowning at himself. He felt restless and couldn’t quite place why. Something was nagging at him, some detail he’d forgotten that needed to be taken care of. He grunted under his breath. The idea that there was just one forgotten item on the never-ending list was ludicrous. More like twenty.
A shadow crossed his door and Ralion came in. Marc thought his smile was slightly strained. “How goes the war?” Ralion asked.
Marc watched him sit, looking over the uneaten food. “Right now, quietly,” he said. “I expect that to change in an hour or two. I thought you were eating upstairs.”
“My plans changed,” Ralion said, looking at the food again.
“I’m finished if you want the rest.”
Ralion shook his head at the amount of food Marc had left untouched, but accepted the offer. “You’re going to waste away if you don’t start eating more.” Marc rolled his eyes, though Ralion didn’t understand why. “You all set for the meeting tomorrow?”
“Mostly. Alse is safely incarcerated and the others are locked in their rooms for now. I’ll get the rest when Morlin comes back.”
Ralion watched him pace back and forth. “Something wrong?”
“When isn’t there? I don’t know. I’m forgetting to do something. It’s not on any of these lists that I’ve been given.”
“Those are usually the kind that rear their ugly head at the last moment.”
Marc grumbled under his breath and went back to pacing. “And it’s not like there’s only one. Like Allie’s report on our com system difficulties. I don’t like that situation at all. If there’s anyone else with the codes Arlon used, or different ones, we could lose the system again at an even worse time.”
“Trevan is working with Allie to fix the problem, but they can’t go any faster than they are.”
“I heard three to seven days. That isn’t good. Dynan is leaving the Palace for the first time tomorrow. It isn’t a secret either, which sets us up for the possibility for another attack. If they can get to us like they did this afternoon with an unscheduled trip to town, just think what could happen with a scheduled one. Have all Maralt’s men been accounted for?”
Ralion frowned a moment. “I thought they had been, but Arlon proved that assumption wrong. Medic Center files on Maralt should also list his men.”
It took a moment of searching to locate the proper file. Marc had to enter his access code three times. Information on Maralt was restricted. “I want you to work with Allie on the com system. Three to seven days is an unacceptable timeline to get this taken care of. If they can’t go any faster, then I want backup plans in place should we lose the system again. We’re going to be on full alert while Dynan and I are in town, right?”
“Yes.”
Marc finally found the file he wanted, reading for a moment. He learned that Maralt had died from acute trauma to the heart caused by a sword thrust that severed the organ, and he blanched slightly at the description. He was about to move on to the sub-files when he started.
“They’ve still got his body,” he said, looking over at Ralion.
“What?”
“Says so right here. They haven’t gotten any official notification to make arrangements.”
“But they managed to lose Carryn.” He shook his head. “You might not want to mention this to Dynan and Dain, especially not Dain.”
“Can I tell the Medic Center to go ahead and uh...”
“Dispose of him the way they disposed of Carryn? I think you’re authorized.”
“Maybe they should take him out back and toss him off the cliff.” Marc glanced at him. He frowned then, knowing there had to be some form to sign, but first he had to figure out where to find it. With Ralion watching silently, Marc finally located the proper document and had it printed. It took him another few minutes to find his seal. “There,” he said, and handed the parchment across to Ralion. “One official disposal of remains order.”
“I like your first idea better,” Ralion said. “I think I’ll hand deliver this, and maybe stick around to watch. Might do you some good to come with me.”
Marc didn’t have any desire to see Maralt again, dead or not, but he thought suddenly that Ralion was right. “Let me find out about these others first.”
Maralt had ten men that were considered his elite troops. Marc didn’t really remember seeing much of them, except in the Ilthain gardens. His memory of that event wasn’t entirely clear either. He found their names listed in a sub-file. Ten names. Seven of them accounted for. Arlon’s designation hadn’t been changed. “Two are missing.”
“Who?”
“Logue Riztrin and Aldridge Faulk.”
“Aldridge was at Cadal, but not at Orgrel as far as anyone knows. Logue was Maralt’s Communications Chief.”
Marc looked at him. “That could explain why we’re having a problem with our com system.”
“It could. Maralt had to have set up these access codes. These three – Aldridge, Logue, and Arlon are the same ones who tried to attack Dynan in the alley, eight years ago. They’ve been in it with Maralt since the beginning.”
“Which means they’ve had a lot of time to plan.” Marc stood. “I think we need to find this one, and fast. Tell Allie about this, and tell him to come up with some other solution that doesn’t involve three to seven days.”
“You don’t want to tell Dain about this either. We wouldn’t want him tracking Logue down himself.”
Marc grunted as they moved from the office. “And he would. If he could get out of bed, anyway.”
“Marc, Dain is out of bed,” Ralion said. “That’s one thing you need to learn about him. He’s only predictable to a point.”
“I think I already knew that.” Marc flashed him a glance then frowned, realizing that Dain was attending the dinner. “I didn’t think he liked going to formal dinners.”
“See what I mean?”
“Right.” They entered the main hall, heading for the Medic Center morgue. “Is that why you’re down here?”
For a moment, Ralion didn’t look like he would answer. “More or less.”
“He’s still in love with her,” Marc said quietly. This time Ralion didn’t speak, only nodding before he looked away. “Maybe we should rename this place the Palace of Broken Hearts. More appropriate.”
When Ralion mumbled under his breath, Marc glanced at him. He slowed as they reached the grand stair. The drapes were pulled back and a waning quarter moon stood above the Wythe Sea. Below it, hanging jewel-like, a brilliant star shone.
“What is that? Arel or Altair?” he asked.
“That’s Altair, Marc. Arel will be up in another hour.”
He nodded. “I don’t think she’s going to leave you.”
Ralion shook his head. “She doesn’t know what she wants. Dain is the first man she ever fell in love with. She never got over him. Now he’s back and I’m looking at not standing a chance. I mean, this is Dain Telaerin after all. Every woman in the whole damn Kingdom is lining up right now. I never understood the effect he has, but I’ve witnessed it often enough to know it’s real. Except something happened with Geneal that Dain never expected. He fell in love with her. She’s one of the only women I know of who didn’t hop right into bed with him. You think I’m kidding? Well, that just drove him crazy. He set to work on her, and by the time he finally got what he wanted, he cared more about her than he probably meant to. You can bet we were all pretty surprised that he stayed with her. She was with us, you know, for years. Then right before Maralt got him, Dain asked her to marry him.” Ralion smiled a little at that. “In his own indirect way, of course. She said yes.”
“Except if she still meant yes, you’d think she’d be a lot clearer about it by now. That’s why I don’t think she’s going to leave you. She doesn’t want Dain to be hurt. She’s afraid, after what he’s been through, that abandoning him now will push him over the edge. And Ralion, she went through a pretty rough time with Maralt being Dain,” he said carefully, aware that Ralion didn’t know the extent of what had happened to her. That was for her to tell him. He wondered if Dain ever would.
“I know.”
“She’s going to realize sooner or later that Dain is going to be all right. He may not be extremely happy about it for a while, but he’ll manage with this too.”
“Happy?” Ralion snorted and turned for the Medic Center stairs. “You haven’t lived until you’ve been around Dain in a bad mood.”
They reached the wide entry hall into the Medic Center. Ralion led the way to a floor one level beneath the main hall. While it was well lit, it seemed to Marc that the walls pressed in around him. He wanted nothing more than to hand over the order and leave. Ralion had other ideas though. He gave the rolled parchment to the morgue attendant and waited.
“Now, my Lord?”
“Now.” Ralion nodded, then surprised the attendant again when he followed.
“I don’t think this is such a good idea for me,” Marc said in a low voice, following Ralion. His sense of unease increased.
“Think he’s going to open his eyes and sit up, or something?” Ralion smiled back at him. “As Counselor Reich would say, you have to confront what you’re afraid of most.”
“I thought I already had,” Marc said, though he knew in truth, the High Bishop frightened him more than the thought of seeing Maralt’s lifeless body. He still didn’t want to, but felt like he had to, and didn’t understand why.
They were taken into a room that was cold, where a thin layer of fog seeped over the stone floor. There was some sort of device in the room that sucked the moisture out of the air that did nothing to ease the sense of being in a cave. Metal drawers lined the far wall. The attendant went about logging in the code that authenticated the document Ralion gave him. That task complete, he looked up which container the body was stored in. A plume of fog drifted down to the floor as the drawer was opened. Marc stayed by the door, but Ralion went over for a closer look.
“I never did get that one piece of him I wanted.”
“He had some personal effects,” the attendant said, picking up a clear bag. Inside it, Marc saw the talon Maralt had used to poison him. That was all that was there.
“I’ll take it,” Ralion said. He glanced back at Marc, asking with a raised brow if he wanted to look, but he shook his head. After a curt nod to the attendant, a carrier was brought over and Maralt moved onto it. The metal tray he rested on slid over easily, and a sheet was draped over him a moment later.
The attendant was surprised again that they followed him, but he led them down the hall and onto another without comment. Ralion handed Marc the bag with the talon and Marc opened it, pulling it out carefully by the handle. A sudden ice-cold chill raced up his spine. He turned it over, looking at the hollow point, seeing it lowering toward him in his mind.
A set of double doors stood at the end and when opened, revealed a barren room except for a large furnace. Marc stopped abruptly and Ralion bumped into him.
“You didn’t think he’d be entombed, did you?”
Marc shook his head, watching while the attendant pressed the controls that activated the flames. He fully expected the attendant to proceed, but he didn’t. Instead, he removed the sheet covering Maralt, then moved to open a small panel where he drew out a book, vestments, and a small, clear vial attached to a slender chain.
“What are you doing?” Marc asked, as unease changed to alarm.
“I’m preparing for the Rites of Transition.”
“Rites of Transition for him? No.”
The attendant blinked at him. “But, my Lord—”
“I said no.”
“I was ordained by the sanctuary to perform this sacrament. It’s the right of all people regardless of their past crimes.”
“Not this one,” Marc said, moving to stand between the attendant and Maralt’s body, certain this shouldn’t be allowed.
“It isn’t within your authority to deny the Rites of Transition to anyone. Only the High Bishop can do that.”
“If you want to lodge a formal complaint with the High Bishop or anyone else, go ahead, but you’re not giving Maralt Adaeryn the Rites of Transition. You don’t know what kind of an evil son of a bitch he was, and I’m not willing to let you blunder through this ceremony, ordained or not, and risk letting him out.”
“Let him out?”
“Marc, uh, take it easy.” Ralion turned to the attendant. “Look, in this particular instance, the Lord Chancellor knows more about this than you ever want to. Skip the Rites. As he said, you’re welcome to file a complaint.”
The attendant looked at them, then finally nodded. It was clear he didn’t approve of their interference. As he put away the vestments, Marc turned to Maralt, looking down at him for a moment, listening to the flames. As the attendant pushed the metal tray inside the furnace Marc left the room. He leaned against the wall, trying to calm himself. He heard a voice reminding him that he would suffer the same fate, over and over again.
Marc waited for Ralion while he stood watching through darkened glass as the flames roared. “Is condemning a man’s soul to eternal damnation just retribution for his crimes?” the attendant asked.
“No,” Ralion said. “For him, it’s not enough.”
“I will be filing that complaint, Minister.”
“Isn’t it great that when you do your life won’t be in danger? That’s a nice change of circumstance, right? Seriously, go ahead.” Ralion moved out to the hall. “You all right?” Marc nodded, aware that the sense of plaguing unease had left him. “You don’t really think he could have been freed?”
“Don’t want to risk it. Do you?” Marc asked, looking at the talon that he still held. He wondered what he ought to do with it. He frowned over it and put it in his pocket.
“Are you kidding? Guess it’s a good thing you came down here after all. Seems fairly chancy that we even found out he was still here, much less decided to come ourselves.”
“As the High Bishop is so fond of saying, some things are given.”
“I’ve never heard him say that, Marc.”
“No? He said it to me all the time,” he muttered. He turned from the sound of licking flames. “Let’s get out of here.”
Carryn reached for the High Bishop to steady him as he swayed, but he shook his head after a moment. “I’m all right. It’s passing, thank you.”
“Disaster averted?” she asked.
“Narrowly.”
“I’ll say,” Dain said from the floor where he sat.
“Do you think Maralt could really have been released?” Carryn asked. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be.”
“If anything that goes on around here could be considered normal,” Dain said.
The High Bishop pulled in a breath, sparing one frowning glance at Dain. “As you know, when the Rites are performed, a door is opened into the Hall. Due to the weakening, there was the potential for release. While slight, I deemed it unwise to leave to chance.”
“Chance?” Dain repeated, and pushed himself up off the floor. “Is that why you waited until the last minute to stop it?”
The High Bishop raised his hand and Dain was silenced, frozen in place. “I must rest. You will continue with him. It’s time, Carryn.”
“He won’t understand.”
“He rarely does.”
Carryn shook her head. “If I do what you wish, he’ll never trust me again.”
“We lack the time for further indulgence.” The High Bishop nodded and left them.
Dain was released, but as he realized Gradyn was gone, he didn’t move for some time, trying to rein in submerged anger that boiled up to the surface. He turned abruptly to the single window of the chamber. High in the sanctuary tower he was able to see the Palace, perched solidly on the cliff, juxtaposed from the temple with Rianamar glittering between. Carryn joined him, looking with him. In the surrounding darkness, the Palace shone brightly, a welcoming beacon of light.
“I want to go home.”
Carryn nodded. “I know you do.”
“Why do you listen to him? Why are you doing this to me?”
“You do have this tendency to ask questions that have been answered before, Dain.”
“I ask because the answers are unacceptable, unreasonable, and—”
“And keep you here when you don’t want to be. If you would just once accept your situation as it is, instead of continually battling us, you might find that your ability to understand is markedly improved. Your comprehension of this situation is limited by constant belligerence.”
“Don’t start preaching to me, Carryn. I’m not interested in any more of your so-called lessons.”
Carryn pulled in a breath. “Then you’ll remain here until you are.”
“And this is going to be different how?”
“When you’re ready to listen to me, I’ll be back.”
“What do you mean? Where are you going?”
“You’ll be safe here, but you won’t be able to leave.”
“Escape, you mean?” he asked and laughed as he nodded. He turned back to the window. “A cell with a view. I had one of those once. You’re not so different from your brother after all.” He glanced back at her and his eyes narrowed. “Are you?”
Carryn didn’t answer, turning instead and disappearing the same way the High Bishop had.
Dain started shaking, turning to lean against the wall before sinking down to the floor. Carryn’s assurance of safety didn’t convince him that he wouldn’t simply cease to exist. He didn’t know how they were able to hold him in this room without Carryn being with him. They never had before. He couldn’t feel her presence at all, and when he tried to reach her, he couldn’t. Dain couldn’t talk to her, leaving him dependent on Carryn’s whim to come back or not.
He was a prisoner, regardless of how clean and bright the cell was. A prisoner again.
“It could be worse.”
Dain jerked in surprise and stood quickly. Then he stared. “Marc! How did you find me? Forget that. You can get me out of here. Quick, before they realize you’re here. Why not? You have to.”
“I’m not Marc.”
Dain stared at him. “What?”
He saw it then, a difference slight enough to go unnoticed at first. He had the same dark, shoulder length hair and grey eyes that were similar to Carryn’s, only lighter. The set of his jaw was less severe and his face was rounder. Marc had lost weight in comparison.
“Marc thinks you’re dead.”
“That’s because I am,” Matt Talryn said. “I’m here though, so I thought I’d drop in and say hello.”
“Here? How?”
“Carryn brought me. She was on Cadal when I fell through the ice. She didn’t know it at the time though.”
Dain shook his head, too many questions racing through his mind to sort out. “That’s supposed to be forbidden. That’s what Maralt did to me when he died, or well, to the other me.”
Matt nodded. “Except I didn’t try to take over the way Maralt did, which is what makes it forbidden. Carryn was sent to Cadal to find us both, Marc and I. It’s difficult to explain exactly, except to say I was called.”
“You should have gone through the Hall of Transition by now.”
“Should have. I’m waiting. Really, I’m here for the same reason you are; to help my brother.”
“Help Marc? With what?”
“With whatever they think is going to happen. I’m not sure they know themselves, so they’re stacking the odds. It’s going to take all of us.”
“To do what?”
Matt shrugged. “They haven’t told me.”
“They have an idea though,” Dain said. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be keeping you or me here. But they won’t come out and say it. That would be forbidden.”
“And possibly catastrophic. If you were told, plain and simple what they know, whatever action you took would be guided by that foreknowledge, which could alter the outcome. Since they don’t know with any great certainty what that is, they can’t risk telling you. Not yet, anyway.”
“Except they haven’t even said that much.”
“You haven’t given them much of a chance.”
“He sent you in here, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t.”
“Son of a bitch knows everything that goes on around here.”
Matt laughed. “He usually does. He might be in here soon to kick me out. He didn’t send me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You seemed like you needed the company, and while they can’t tell you straight out what they want, I can.”
Dain watched him, not sure if he should trust him or not. “All right. What do they want?”
“They want you to learn. Relearn, actually, something that you knew how to do once. So you’ll be ready when the time comes.”
“Relearn something I already knew? What?”
“They’re afraid. Time is running out. Something isn’t going according to plan. They’re weakening, and I think you understand enough to know what a bad deal that is.”
“Weakening? I heard the old man say that. Weakening how?”
“Maralt wasn’t supposed to be quite as strong as he was when they took him. That was Marc’s fault in a way. If he’d done what they told him to do right away, Maralt never would have gotten that strength. Marc didn’t understand though, and that’s the High Bishop’s fault, although sometimes, I get the feeling he’s just doing what he’s told to by someone else. There’s an imbalance now, and it may not be so easily corrected. That’s the impression I get anyway.”
“Doing what he’s told? He’s the High Bishop. There isn’t anyone else.”
Matt looked at him sideways. “He’s also the divine leader of Faith.”
“Yes, all right, and he gets his orders from the Gods.” Dain stopped at that thought.
“He gets his strength from them too.”
“If you believe in such things.” Dain turned back to the window.
“I’m here. I’m dead. I have to believe in such things.”
“So you’re saying that the High Bishop is weakening? He’s old enough to be dead three times at least, so that’s not too surprising.” Matt nodded, smiling slightly. Dain didn’t want to take his suppositions any further, wanting to deny the possibility. “The High Bishop is weakening because the Gods are weakening.”
“Something like that.”
Dain shook his head. “How is that possible? Because of this so-called imbalance? I’ve been taught since I was a child that the Gods are impervious, that they aren’t susceptible to secular difficulties. Not that I have any great belief that they’re even real, but just for the sake of argument, how is it possible for them to be weakened by Maralt?”
“There may be less of a distinction between what you call secular and what isn’t. I’m not sure, Dain. I don’t have all the answers either. I know that the High Bishop needs you, needs all of us, to fix what’s wrong. What you have to do is choose whether or not you’re going to cooperate. I know it’s not exactly in your nature to do what you’re told, when you’re told, but I don’t think they have time for anything else.”
Dain shook his head, looking out at the Palace, wishing he could be there, be anywhere but locked within this cell. He didn’t think he deserved to be shut up in a tower for not understanding, and he doubted that he’d ever be able to trust Carryn Adaeryn again.
“If it will help you any, Carryn didn’t want to bring you here, or leave you.”
“Then why did she?”
“Her choices are as limited as your own. The High Bishop gave her the chance to do things her way and it didn’t work. He’s not a very patient man.”
“I never noticed that before, Matt. Thanks for clueing me in.”
Matt laughed. “It wouldn’t hurt to tone down your irreverence of the man either. He’s not exactly used to your brand of sarcasm.”
“All he had to say to me was that he needed my help. Instead, he resorts to this.” He gestured at the room.
“Not his first mistake and not likely his last. Yours either. He has to be careful how he proceeds, and you’re not the only problem he’s dealing with.”
“Marc doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Matt looked at him for a moment, and shook his head. Dain could see that he was paying a price for his cooperation. Marc too. “Will he?”
“I haven’t been told. Forbidden, you know.” He glanced to his left suddenly. “I have to go. Think about what I said. After all, there’s not much else to do while you’re here. I’ll see you around,” he said and was gone.
The High Bishop appeared a quick instant later, but Dain was looking out the window again, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell that Matt had been there. Dain was afraid the old man would steal the memory, leaving him back where he started, confused and without knowledge.
“Come with me. There’s something I wish to show you.” He held out his hand.
Dain wouldn’t have, except it was a sure way out of this cell. He nodded.
He knew the hallway. He didn’t remember the room, having never seen the inside of it before. He knew that for certain. The darkness oozing from it was more familiar. He saw himself standing against it, a flash of memory that gave him an immediate headache. He knew what it was. Felt it. Understood it. It was different this time. Stronger. Palpable. And it reeked of evil in such a way that made him afraid to get closer.
Inside the chamber, seven crystal orbs encased the life forces of Maralt and all his ancestors. The room lay in half-shadow and Dain saw the darkness encroaching out into the hall by the span of several paces. Light dwelled against it, still able to hold back the evil forces within. It seemed though that the dark swelled toward him, even as he looked.
The High Bishop pulled him back a pace and he looked pale. The timeless years he’d survived showed more starkly in his face. He seemed ancient and suddenly frail when he hadn’t been before.
Dain turned to him, watching as the length of shadows deepened. “What do you want me to do?”
